Chapter 38 — The Woman Who Always Watched Him
Night crept slowly through the city, and the air outside was quiet enough to hear the hum of street lamps.
In one small apartment, a soft blue glow pulsed from a tablet screen. The faint light reflected on a young woman's face — pale, calm, and too still, like porcelain left forgotten in the dark.
Her name was Akari Hoshizuki, twenty-six years old.
A high school literature teacher.
And someone the world would never suspect of harboring the kind of thoughts she did.
Her long black hair framed her face loosely, her thin fingers resting against her lips as the video replayed again and again. On the screen, the figure of a boy — or rather, his in-game avatar — danced across the battlefield in a rhythm so fluid it almost looked choreographed. A Rune Swordsman, calm and graceful, weaving through blue light and shattering stone wraiths with perfect timing.
The clip was titled:
"New Player Haru Solo Clears Temple Dungeon! Is This a Hidden Pro Gamer?"
The comment section below was chaos — debates, admiration, disbelief.
"No way that's a boy. Probably a woman using a male avatar again."
"His movement is too clean for a newbie!"
"Whoever that player is, they're good. REALLY good."
"Can I marry his avatar???"
Akari read none of it.
Her gaze didn't move from the screen. She didn't see the game, not really.
She saw him.
That calm voice, that small chuckle when he said "Let's do our best."
She had heard it before.
She had felt it brush past her ears in real life, once, long ago.
The moment she heard that soft tone through the speaker, something in her heart cracked open. Her pulse quickened. Her breath grew shallow.
"Haru…" she whispered. "It's really you."
But how could she know?
How could a teacher recognize a student through a filtered game voice and a virtual model?
Because she had watched him before anyone else did.
Long before the internet ever learned his name.
Before Hanma Studio turned him into an icon.
Because Akari Hoshizuki was the woman who had always been watching him — quietly, carefully, almost lovingly.
And that love hadn't started in a classroom.
It started long before that.
---
The Girl Born Without a Father
Akari's life began in sterility.
Not in a home full of laughter, but in a white clinic, under fluorescent lights and machinery hums.
She was born through artificial pregnancy, her mother one of the countless women who chose to conceive without a male donor. In the reverse chastity world, that was normal — men were too rare and too protected to participate in family creation.
Akari had never even seen a man in person until she was fifteen.
Her mother, an influential woman in the National Women's Bureau, believed in strict order. She raised Akari with discipline sharper than affection. The house was spotless, silent, and cold. Every step, every tone of voice, every bite at the dinner table had to be "proper."
There were rules for everything.
Even the way Akari smiled had to be "graceful."
Her mother didn't yell — she corrected. And that was worse.
Because every correction chipped a little more off Akari's heart.
Her earliest memories weren't of warmth or hugs.
They were of correction, control, and the quiet suffocation of perfection.
---
Childhood — The Lonely Doll
At school, Akari was the strange girl.
She was polite, quiet, and distant — traits that, in this society, marked her as alien.
While other girls were bold and competitive, Akari kept her head down, eyes low, hands folded. She wasn't timid because she wanted to be. She was timid because it was the only way she knew how to survive at home.
Her classmates misunderstood her stillness. They mistook her silence for arrogance.
They mocked her, whispered behind her back, hid her books, called her "broken."
When she tried to smile, they rolled their eyes.
When she tried to talk, they laughed at her trembling voice.
There were days she came home with bruises hidden under her sleeves, small red marks shaped like fingernails. She never told her mother. She knew what her mother would say.
"Akari, if others dislike you, it's because you failed to behave properly."
So she learned to behave.
She learned to be invisible.
And she learned to hate the sound of laughter.
Each night, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and whispered to herself:
"I'm okay. I don't need anyone."
But loneliness is a quiet disease.
It spreads slowly — until it becomes part of you.
---
The Breaking Point
One cloudy afternoon during middle school, the bullying crossed a line.
Three girls cornered her behind the gym. They took her bag, poured water on her notes, and laughed. They said she didn't deserve to be at school. That her own mother probably wished she had never been born.
Something in Akari's chest snapped.
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She just… moved.
It was fast, precise, frightening.
She slammed one girl into the wall, struck another across the face, pinned the last by her collar until her legs gave out.
When teachers found them, Akari was standing still — face blank, breath steady — surrounded by injured classmates.
The scene was silent except for her calm whisper:
"They deserved it."
It wasn't rage. It wasn't revenge.
It was a quiet breaking — the moment she lost the last thread connecting her to ordinary humanity.
The school expelled her within hours.
Her mother didn't comfort her. She simply said, "You have humiliated me," and transferred her to a distant district.
Akari spent that night sitting alone in her dark room, her hands trembling.
Not because of guilt, but because it was the first time she had ever felt power.
And power, once felt, never leaves quietly.
---
High School — A Girl with No Friends
The new school was peaceful, but Akari never truly started over.
Rumors followed her — they always do. People could sense when someone was off. The way she stared too long. The way she flinched at sudden laughter. The way her smiles never reached her eyes.
She sat alone in the library every day, buried in books.
Fiction became her only refuge.
Characters never judged her.
Stories never turned their backs.
She read everything: tragedy, poetry, fantasy, philosophy.
She dreamed of other worlds, other rules, other lives where someone like her could belong.
She didn't realize then that this habit — escaping into stories — would one day twist into something much darker.
Because when reality finally gave her a glimpse of kindness, she wouldn't know how to handle it.
---
Adulthood — A Teacher with a Mask
Years passed. Akari became a woman.
Beautiful, quiet, and composed — the kind of woman society praised for "elegance."
She became a literature teacher because she believed stories could heal.
Maybe through stories, she could teach others what she never learned herself: empathy, courage, connection.
She was respected at school.
Students called her "the gentle teacher."
She smiled softly, gave thoughtful lectures, corrected papers neatly.
But beneath that gentle exterior was a hollow place filled with whispers of the past.
She lived alone in a tiny apartment.
A shelf full of classic novels, a single bed, a fridge with minimal food.
Her life was stable, organized, and utterly empty.
---
The First Time She Saw Him
It was an ordinary morning, like any other.
Akari left the staff room carrying a pile of literature tests. She turned a corner — and collided with a student.
The papers scattered.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, sensei!"
A voice — soft, apologetic, careful.
Akari knelt automatically, her fingers brushing against another's as they both reached for the papers.
She looked up.
And saw him.
Silver hair, pale skin, calm eyes the color of quiet skies.
His expression was gentle, his movements polite, his voice low and genuine.
He smiled at her — just a small, respectful smile — and said,
"You dropped these. I hope none of them got dirty."
Akari froze.
Her chest tightened painfully.
It was the first time in her life that someone — anyone — had looked at her with that kind of warmth.
Not pity.
Not mockery.
Just… kindness.
When he walked away, her reflection lingered in his eyes for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
That was all it took.
That night, as she graded papers, she found herself thinking of him.
The way his voice lingered. The way he spoke gently without fear.
The small smile that didn't feel forced.
She learned his name soon after: Takahara Haruya.
The school's "rare boy."
A student every girl admired, but few approached.
From that day, something dangerous began to grow inside her.
---
The Beginning of Obsession
At first, she convinced herself it wasn't wrong.
She was simply curious.
Teachers cared about students — that was normal.
But curiosity turned to attention.
Attention turned to fixation.
Fixation became obsession.
She began noticing details others ignored.
The way he tied his shoelaces neatly, even when in a hurry.
The way he held his bag strap across his chest.
The way he greeted staff politely, but never boastfully.
He was everything she admired — everything she could never be.
She told herself she was watching over him, making sure he stayed safe.
But deep down, she knew she was watching for herself.
Sometimes, when Haru stayed late for club activities, she would find reasons to stay too — "paperwork," "grading essays." She would walk the same corridor just as he left, her heart beating painfully fast when his shadow passed by hers.
When he spoke to his friends, she memorized their voices.
When he laughed, she felt light-headed.
And when he disappeared into crowds, she felt something close to panic.
She wasn't in love — not in the normal sense.
She was addicted to his existence.
---
The Present — The Viral Clip
Now, years later, as Haru's gaming clip flashed across her tablet, Akari's fragile control began to crumble again.
"Haru… you even sound the same," she murmured. "Still polite… still calm."
Her lips curved into a trembling smile.
She replayed the clip again and again.
Each time, her heart raced faster.
Every slash, every movement — perfect. Graceful. Gentle even in violence.
It reminded her of him in real life — moving carefully, never wanting to hurt anyone.
When the chat in the clip teased about his gender, Akari laughed softly, almost bitterly.
"They think you're a girl… how foolish."
Her eyes softened.
"But I know, Haru. I know who you are."
Her fingers hovered above the pause button, trembling slightly.
She could see the faint reflection of her face on the screen — eyes wide, expression fragile.
She whispered again, voice almost reverent,
"You don't have to hide. I already see you. I always have."
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the tablet.
Outside, the city slept.
Inside, Akari's obsession woke fully.
All the years of loneliness, repression, and silence — all of it twisted into something that looked like love but burned like madness.
She smiled faintly to herself.
"I was alone for so long, Haru.
But now… I'm not.
You're here.
You exist only for me, No one deserves you expect me my love."
Her tone was tender, almost gentle.
But her eyes — those calm, unblinking eyes — glowed with something else entirely.
Something no longer sane.
She pressed her palm against the screen.
"Don't worry," she whispered softly. "I'll protect you.
From your fame. From those girls. From the world."
Her voice softened even further, breaking into a quiet giggle.
"You don't know it yet, Haru… but I was the first one to see you.
And I'll be the last one to let you go."
---
— To Be Continued…
—————— ——————
Author Note 📝
So… how was our new character?
Be honest — she's terrifying, right?
You all just met our official yandere psycho, a woman powered by obsession, delusion, and "Haruya-only" devotion.
A stalker.
A danger signal wearing a teacher's ID card.
A professional red flag.
And let me say this very clearly:
She is NOT going to be part of Haruya's harem.
Never.
Ever.
She's the type who would kidnap the harem, not join it.
Right now, she's only stalking him quietly from the shadows… but remember one thing:
She can do ANYTHING to get Haru if she feels desperate enough.
Her obsession isn't normal.
It's dangerous.
You'll see more of her in the next chapter.
And in many future chapters too — because something big is coming.
Something that will shake Haruya's peaceful routine.
Something that ties into her past…
And her madness.
Get ready.
The real plot twist hasn't even started yet.
— king_fuzu